05-10-2018, 12:53 PM
Pond is uncertain why she finds herself in such a different world than the one she left when she had fallen asleep some time ago. She does not know how many years have passed or why no one had woken her before; at best, thanks to her still-young body, she believes it has been only a single night or two. Had she fallen ill? Had she simply dreamt the entirety of her life before now? She remembers dunes of golden sand and she remembers the boggy marshes her parents had called home, where she had been born. She still remembers her father telling her that she mustn’t be afraid; she remembers her mother’s warm embrace with feathered red wings.
But none of this is the same. It must have been a dream… were her parents ever real at all? She knows she is still in Beqanna but what had become of everything she once knew?
The strangely transparent wings on her shoulders at least tell her that the shadow-foal she had met was real. Perhaps everything she had remembered from ‘before’ was that foal’s making as well. It had only wanted to play, but it had hurt her so terribly. She wanders now, ever careful with gray eyes that dart to-and-fro because her ears still seem stuffed-up like she had been rolling in the sands too much and has never had the chance to rinse them with water, no matter how often she has shaken her small head and snorted to try and clear them.
But the smell of dry earth has drawn her northward now, although the sand she finds is not the same as she remembers. She remembers a beating sun and golden dunes; this place is gray and cold. Still, it is the sand that she has craved and she clings close to the dry parts of it. Calling out, she seeks her parents, wondering if perhaps they had come here and simply forgotten her after she had wandered away from them for so long. Was it her fault they had gone? Did they know of her entrapment with the shadow foal in that stone tower? Did they scorn her for it?
She lingers near the stony caves where the water doesn’t reach, her whispy translucent wings tucked against her body as she watches the waves retreat and crash back down against the shore, waiting for an answer.
@[Djinni]
But none of this is the same. It must have been a dream… were her parents ever real at all? She knows she is still in Beqanna but what had become of everything she once knew?
The strangely transparent wings on her shoulders at least tell her that the shadow-foal she had met was real. Perhaps everything she had remembered from ‘before’ was that foal’s making as well. It had only wanted to play, but it had hurt her so terribly. She wanders now, ever careful with gray eyes that dart to-and-fro because her ears still seem stuffed-up like she had been rolling in the sands too much and has never had the chance to rinse them with water, no matter how often she has shaken her small head and snorted to try and clear them.
But the smell of dry earth has drawn her northward now, although the sand she finds is not the same as she remembers. She remembers a beating sun and golden dunes; this place is gray and cold. Still, it is the sand that she has craved and she clings close to the dry parts of it. Calling out, she seeks her parents, wondering if perhaps they had come here and simply forgotten her after she had wandered away from them for so long. Was it her fault they had gone? Did they know of her entrapment with the shadow foal in that stone tower? Did they scorn her for it?
She lingers near the stony caves where the water doesn’t reach, her whispy translucent wings tucked against her body as she watches the waves retreat and crash back down against the shore, waiting for an answer.
@[Djinni]